


FIC:  The Postboy's Amusement

by Hippediva



Category: John Wilmot - Fandom, Lord Rochester
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Venereal Disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hippediva/pseuds/Hippediva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentine's Day.   Hope it was a fun one for all!  Happy V-day to all my flist!</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC:  The Postboy's Amusement

**Author's Note:**

> Lord Varney and his wife are mine. Lady Castlemaine and Louise de Kerouelle were but two of Charles II's mistresses. The Intelligencer was a published newspaper specialising in scandals.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:** |   
cynical  
---|---  
**Current music:** | Soler--Fandango  
**Entry tags:** |  [fiction](http://hippediva.livejournal.com/tag/fiction)  
  
_**FIC: The Postboy's Amusement**_  
DISCLAIMER: Rochester belongs to God. I do not own him.  
PAIRING: Rochester, OFC  
RATING: PG (I bear no responsibility for any reader's imagination)

SUMMARY: Valentine's Day. Hope it was a fun one for all! Happy V-day to all my flist!

  
(Intercepted from young Lady Varney's post by order of a certain Lord)

  
My dear Mary, 13th, February, 1671

I cannot begin to tell you how crowded London is with so many streets and shops. I'm sure I should be entirely lost had not Varney taken such pains that I should remain in the carriage when we made our way to our new lodgings. I attended the Court last night for the first time, and, pray tell me how any woman could be prepared for the spectacle of such grandeur? You laugh, but could you but see the glitter of gems and the broad and lovely rooms, you would be as amazed as I. Varney stayed close by me through most of the evening, wherein we heard a wonderful singer from Spain and saw a strange exhibition of native dancing that rather shocked my country eyes. Such passion and so crude, yet the woman's flying skirts and the curious clappers both she and her partner beat upon with their fingers were strangely moving. I daresay the heat of the sun must inflame the Spaniards to a terrifying degree. I was told my my lady C_ that the troupe is a wild one of Spanish gypsies, imported for His Majesty's amusement at some expense by one of the great lords who surround him.

These lords are magnificent to behold, like the blooded stallions in our stables in springtime. I must admit so many are handsome as gods and manners so beautiful, I felt that, at last, our dear mother would be happy that I have indeed married into the greatest Court in Christendom. I was warmly greeted by their fine Ladies, although I found it curious that none of these very handsome women were their wives, although our Gracious Queen was indeed present and looking very dignified, if not forlorn, seeing as she must watch her sovereign lord cavort with not one, but two rivals for his affections. My Lady Castlemaine was much more beautiful than I could have imagined and she was most kind to me, pinching my cheek and admiring my new green brocade. The Frenchwoman, Madame de Kerouelle, is dazzlingly handsome but her manners are not so nice.

We had just refreshed ourselves with His Majesty's magnificent wine, a French import that bubbles in the glass and, my dearest sister, you must not breathe a word of this to mother. Her ill-health and gentle country manners would not comprehend, but His Majesty winked at me! I turned bright red and wished I could hide my face in your shoulder as we used when Sir Robert would tease me.

I have more news, but again, I implore you not to import any of this to Mother. I have met Lord R_ and he is a most impossible man! We had gone to the tables for cards and somehow, I know not how, Varney was settled at another table and I was shaking down to my toes when Lord R_ took his place at our table as my partner.

You know well all the stories we hear, even in our quiet countryside of his mad voluptuousness. I trust they are all quite true. He is, however, a most handsome gentleman, very graceful and his wit is such that I should fear most dreadfully to be the butt of one of his jokes. He had been watching the Spaniards with grave attention and seemed desirous of more of their coarse company, for he was noticeably absent for a time and suddenly appeared with both dancers, laughing, although I do not believe he speaks a word of their language. He gambled extravagantly, lost much, laughed and bet the rest of his purse on a single card and won. He teased me about country matters and, indeed, would lapse into words so beautiful and poetic it was only later that I blush at them.

Later, we had dancing and I cannot understand how my husband kept disappearing just as my lord R_ would approach and lead me to the floor. He dances beautifully, but, knowing his ill-repute, I was terrified for my virtue, even there in full view of the Court. I remained cool and dignified, as befits the new wife of a baronet, yet he but laughed and made a droll remark about country flowers in city filth. I do wish the bodice of my gown was not cut so terribly low, but it is the fashion and one must suffer it.

Just before we left, he appeared at my shoulder and leaned down to whisper something in my ear so completely shocking that I felt it necessary to rap him smartly with my fan, which, due to the force of my distress, broke. He lifted the sad remains, kissed it and winked at me, slipping it into his pocket. I was completely mortified and hope that Varney shall never hear of it.

It is nearly dawn and the postboy is anxious to leave, so I shall end and hope all at home are well. Please remember my duty to Mother and my love to you and dear little Jane.

Your loving sister,

Letitcia

  
(received by Lord R_ with the morning post and deposited on his pillow whilst he slept.)

  
My Lord and love, 14th of February, 1671

I write, still trembling with the force of your kisses and watch the sun break over London skies, thinking of the moon last night and the soft breezes in the gardens where I did lose my heart. Sweet my lord, how can I turn to sunlight without your caress? What can I do but watch the sky and count the hours until we shall meet again.

LV

(Lord R_'s reply, as printed in the Intelligencer, 15th, February, 1671)

The breezes were indeed so sweet  
Tramp'ling cold disdain into dear delight  
And like the crumpled thyme beneath our feet  
Recalls Selene's smiles kissing us in light

Yet ask me not when we again should sin.  
Tis not my heart that hardens thinking of thy breast,  
But memory must forever still the raucous din  
Of lovers' woes and solitary, unsatisfied rest.

Be still and count thy charms before the glass  
Remember much and remembering, regret  
For once such joy is tasted, it is past  
And I can do no better than forget.

  
(Announcement in the Intelligencer, 10th March, 1671)

Lord Varney and his lady have retired to their country estate, where his physicians shall care for his poor Lady's current distress, travelling by way of Bath to take the waters.)

  
NOTES: Lord Varney and his wife are mine. Lady Castlemaine and Louise de Kerouelle were but two of Charles II's mistresses. The Intelligencer was a published newspaper specialising in scandals.


End file.
